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mooryomi_gaeru as a gift for yomi_gaeru after all the wonderful inspiration she has provided over the years![Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine]
At Sixteen [Part Two]Far later than expected, the younger Uchiha boys hopped out of the carriage, chattering excitedly. They hurried inside and exclaimed upon finding Sakura’s shoes. As they raced into the freshly cleaned and tidied living room, however, Sakura was nowhere to be found. The more they looked, they realized they couldn’t find Madara, either. That was strange. Were they playing hide and seek with them again? That had been Sakura and Madara’s favourite game for months...
Still outside the house, Tajima couldn’t shake the uncanny feeling that something had changed. Something was wrong. The day was beautiful, but something did not sit right in his gut.
The house, he mused, studying it.
There was something different about the house.
It was spring cleaning week. The staff had been very busy, turning out each room, one at a time. Even the spare rooms would have been thoroughly polished and wiped down, their windows washed and carpets and drapes beaten free of dust.
Tajima’s dark, suspicious eyes fell upon the only window with closed drapes. The drawing room.
His lips pressed together in a firm line, he stepped inside the front foyer.
Cries of “Haruno-dono!” erupted from his right.
From the living room, the boys cheered that Sakura-chan had found them. Immediately they set to playing some kind of game. Internally he counted five voices there, not six.
Tajima ignored them and headed in the opposite direction, toward the drawing room.
He could smell the cigarette smoke from outside the room and his teeth clenched. When he opened the door and stepped inside, the tobacco was strong, but it wasn’t strong enough.
(Tajima closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. He’d known the day was coming, and with it being who it was, that it would of course come sooner than most as this precocious young man was gifted, curious and driven to a fault; but he also lacked the good fucking sense to be subtle. And he was so, so young. Spirits, the infuriating child was only 15—.)
Unsure if he could keep the lid on his temper, Tajima shut and locked the door behind him, sealing the room. Then he turned back and searched the hazy semi-darkness. The drapes were still pulled shut, leaving the room shadowed. But he didn’t have to look far.
There in Tajima’s own wingback chair behind his desk, smoking languidly without a care in his sated world, sat his prideful, egotistical, prodigal and debauched son. His half-lidded eyes were red, his happi coat gaped open, displaying half his bruised, scratched chest, his pants were loose and he was barefoot. He’d bent one knee so his foot could rest on the seat cushion and he could rest his elbow on it, leaving his legs open wide.
It was disgraceful behaviour and a frankly disgusting position that had Tajima clenching his fists. This child not only abandoned decency, he flaunted his indecency in front of his own father.
From beneath his longer, shaggy hair, Madara watched his father. His eyes were far more knowing than a child’s should be. Then again, it was unlikely that Madara considered himself a child anymore.
“Since when do you smoke?” asked Tajima evenly.
“Today,” said Madara, exhaling a long, graceful peel of smoke. “It’s very relaxing.”
Tajima’s pulse pounded so hard in his veins he could feel and hear it in his ears like a war drum. He promised himself many years ago that he would not hurt his children physically if he could help it, but by the gods Madara pushed his boundaries and patience.
“Was it a maid?” demanded Tajima, though doubtfully.
Madara’s aloofness remained intact, though he frowned, insulted. “Of course not.”
Fuck, thought Tajima. At least a maid they could pay off or dispose of.
A long scratch across his son’s collarbone caught Tajima’s eye. Then the other, greater, fear took root in him. Viscous bile rose in his throat but he must ask.
“Did she consent?”
Madara’s smirk was grossly confident.
“Very much.”
“Did you take precautions?”
“What precautions?”
“She is my best friend’s only child,” snapped Tajima, disgusted at Madara’s blasé attitude. “You can’t go around doing this to her or women like her. She isn’t common and she isn’t staff. What would you do if there were consequences?”
“Take responsibility for them,” said Madara easily. He took another long drag on the cigarette, filling his lungs and holding the poison in until he couldn’t stretch any further. He wondered if that was how Sakura felt. Being stretched until she couldn’t take any more.
Hnnn…. He would have to ask her next time...
“How? What do you know of looking after a baby?” demanded his father, distracting Madara from his little daydream. The way Madara’s glazed eyes had lost focus had made Tajima’s stomach turn.
“I’ve raised four so far,” said Madara, unbothered and holding his father’s gaze.
The insult was clear to both of them. Madara had raised his brothers because Tajima hadn’t been willing to parent alone. He hadn’t tried.
“And I found a woman to help look after them. I’m not ‘scared’ of consequences,” said Madara calmly. He inhaled long and deep on the cigarette and looked his father in the eye. “I want them.”
TBC
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Date: 2022-02-19 10:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 07:59 pm (UTC)Perfect...again!
Date: 2022-03-09 09:29 pm (UTC)Re: Perfect...again!
Date: 2022-12-21 07:59 pm (UTC)